


Ask Dean: Fantasy World, Indiana, Nurses Rule

by compo67



Series: Chicago Verse [120]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Askbox Fic, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Established Relationship, Growing Old Together, Grumpy Dean, Hospitalization, Lingerie, M/M, Old Married Couple, Post-Series, Recovery, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-21 23:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13154520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compo67/pseuds/compo67
Summary: Folks submit questions for Dean to answer.To submit a question, go to compo67.tumblr.com, anon is on so you don't need an account.





	Ask Dean: Fantasy World, Indiana, Nurses Rule

**Hey Dean, if you and Sam could hop into any fantasy world (LoTR, Game of Thrones, Shanarra, Dragonriders of Pern, Narnia, etc.)... and as the heroes of course, not as a boring peasant... which one do you think would be the most fun for the two of you?**

  
Well, I’m glad that you identified that I wouldn’t be a peasant. Sam might want to be a peasant because he’s interested in the human condition or some junk like that. But me? Nope. Give me hero status. Fork it over. I make that shit look good.

I’m old. I don’t have to humble brag. I can just brag.

You’ve complicated your question. Which one would be the most fun for the *two* of you. Dammit. LotR would be the most fun for Sam. He’d be an Elf, I just know it. Total snob? Vegetarian? Tall? Total Elf. I’d have more fun as a dwarf or a hobbit. Anyway. I’m a LotR fan, but it’s not what I’d pick. I bet you a million bucks that if you hopped into a Tolkien world, you’d still have to trudge through his twenty page descriptions of a god damn valley. AND Legolas would SING. THE WHOLE. WAY.

No thank you.

Now, which one would I enjoy more? Game of fuckin’ Thrones. I mean, it might as well be Game of Fucking Thrones.

Look.

No one has taken more How Well Do You Know GoT than this guy, right here. Yours truly. I know you’re thinking I probably have a crush on Daenerys. Nope. Try again. Would I be so damn predictable? I’ll let you ponder on that.

Now, personally? I can’t make up my mind on the Houses. I think Ned was probably as good a dude as you’re gonna get from GRRM. But he was a political idiot. He was naive and you can’t have an effective ruler that way. I like to think I could stay a step or two ahead of my political enemies. And if politics didn’t work, I won’t hesitate to slit some throats, toss in some poison, and have a rainbow wedding. I’d definitely invite Sean Bean to that shit for redemption.

Anyway. Okay. So.

I think Sam and I would have the most fun in Game of Thrones, because hey, you’re asking *me* so I can answer any way I want.

Ugh, but he’s reading the books, so we could only hop into certain parts of GoT. Sigh.

(I’ve read all the books, I’m all caught up with the show, and you will pry my Jon Snow mug from my cold dead hands.)

So that’s that. Like hell would I go to Narnia.

Turkish Delights are gross.

-DW

 

**Hey Dean! Do you have any never forgetting bittersweet moment with Sam that you could share with us? Thanks!**

  
Alright.

You got me on a good night. I’m feeling generous. Take a seat and let me tell you about our trip to Fuckin’ Nowhere, Indiana.

I’m sure that town’s got a name, but I could give two shits about Indiana. Cesspool state. And before any of you from Indiana give me shit–even Sam has nothing nice to say about Indiana. Aside from the Amish. There’s just something about Indiana that angers my blood whenever we have to drive through it, visit it, or think about it. You can talk shit about Chicago, but really, what you’re talking shit about is Cook County. When you talk shit about Indiana, you’re talking about the entire god damn state.

Fuck. I got sidetracked. See what happens when you bring up Indiana?

Okay. So there was a reason for stepping into the cesspool. You know those kinds of places where the only advertisement is through word of mouth? The referrals all come from a friend of a friend of a friend. Or you know a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy. Yep. That kind of thing. I found it. And of course, the best place to have one of these places happens to be in Fuckin’ Nowhere, Indiana.

Sam didn’t know about ‘it’ until after our yearly tour of Amish country. You want good fried chicken in the Midwest, you get your ass to Amish country. We went there, Sam bought some more quilts for the house because apparently owning less than a hundred means there’s a shortage, and I wore sweatpants to Sunday dinner. It was great.

Next day, we headed over to Fuckin’ Nowhere. This place consists of a bunch of nothing, next to nothing, adjacent to even more nothing. Exciting, right?

Well, I found the place. Asked Sam to wait in the car. I told the lady that we were kind of in a hurry and to speed up the process, I’d pay three times what she was asking–in cash. Nothing makes people move like cash. PayPal my butt.

We went over what I was looking for, and to her credit, she knew her shit. I asked her how she kept people of Fuckin’ Nowhere from coming at her with guns and pitchforks. I can’t tell you exactly what she does for a living, but it’s an awesome front. If you saw her, you’d never think she has a side business like this one.

After half an hour, I got Sam, shoved him at our host, and left.

I came back three hours later and went inside to pay the rest of what I owed. I wanted to make sure we were getting quality. And you know, I wanted to make sure Sam was happy.

Let’s call the lady Laura. Well, it just so happens that Laura makes some of the best custom lingerie on the planet. If aliens decide to go into the lingerie business, they will learn from Laura. Seriously. I never thought there could be a Michelangelo of lingerie, but I found myself in the presence of a genius.

The things that woman can do with lace and a smile.

I picked out the color and design, she cleared it with Sam and got it all sized and fitted in just three hours. You might think, Dean, what’s there to making lingerie? There’s not that much fabric.

You’re right. There ain’t much fabric. But the fabric there is has to count. You can’t expect something like a pair of ruffled silk panties to last after two rounds of headboard banging sex if it’s made out of cheap shit. And according to the wall behind our headboard, we have a lot of headboard banging sex.

Takes notes on this. There are three things in life where you get what you paid for: medical care, bacon, and lingerie. Everything else? Forget it. You can get a cheap suit and still make it look like a million bucks if you have patience and you’re good with an iron. Doctors, bacon, and panties–that’s where you invest your money.

Laura gave Sam and I a moment to talk about the goods.

I expected him to have about a thousand words for me.

Instead, he was silent as fuck. After a few moments, I was like, holy shit I’m in serious trouble. I shouldn’t have left him alone. I shouldn’t have done this. We should have gone back home after Amish country. I should have quit while I was ahead and winning at buying him yet another bundle of quilts.

And even though I was thinking about what exactly I was going to do when I had Sam alone on our bed–in nothing but that lingerie and a smile–I was also internally panicking. Red alarm. Danger. Danger.

I braced myself for anger. Or maybe, silent, Sam-like anger. Brooding shoulders and all that.

But no. He just picked up the set and held it in his hands. I couldn’t read his face. God damn poker face. I couldn’t tell. Was he upset? Angry? Why else would he be so damn quiet?

Then he looked up, puppy eyes set to stun.

All he said was, “You sure this is for me?”

In the split moment before I rushed to answer, I just felt something in my chest give a really tight squeeze. I usually have a line ready for everything.

I wasn’t sure exactly how to say that yes, it was for him.

I guess that’s what you’d call bittersweet.

And if not, well, fuck it. You still got a story. I guess Indiana is good for something. But don’t tell Indiana that.

-DW

 

**Hi Dean, I have been concerned.. How is Sam getting along? Any improvement? And sweetie are you holding up ok?**

  
Thanks for checking in. He’s alright, considering. Stubborn. Pouty. Whiny. Angry if I talk to any of the nurses for more than three seconds.

I’ll admit to it when I’m flirting with someone. But I’m not flirting with his nurses. You know what I’m doing? Talking and checking in with his nurses. You know how many bed pans are thrown at them? How many patients and their families expect them to wait on them hand and foot like the hospital is some god damn hotel? How many people raise their voice at them because they should have some kind of magic wand?

So. I’m trying to be a decent human being and ask them how their day is going. Listen when they talk to me about Sam’s stats and schedule for the day. Ask them how the rest of their shift went yesterday or how their day off was. I’ll give a few of the newer ones tips to restaurants not far from the hospital. Or let them know about certain jazz clubs they’d like to swing by on their evenings away from taking care of people all day.

I’m okay. Tired. Cranky. Whiny–out of ear shot from Sam. Frustrated. Sam is making progress, but to quote his physical therapist, “Progress is gonna be inches, not feet.” Sam wants to be doing stuff completely on his own right. The. Fuck. Now.

I do, too.

Because it sucks to see him struggle.

It sucks to listen to shit like aphasia, dysphagia, weakness, paralysis, cognitive challenges, rehab, and further treatment necessary.

I bet you’re thinking, but Dean, you go to PT all the time.

Sure I do. But this is Sam. And that makes things completely different.

This. This is also completely different.

Have you ever not had control of your own body? In a way that lasts for more than a few hours? It’s incredibly… well, fill in the blanks.

I’m probably not a complete mess right now thanks to a combination of things. One, I can’t crack in front of Sam. Two, the nurses have made sure we get the best and most timely care. They’ll swap around appointments, get the doctors around quicker, push labs through, and toss in a meal or two for me when I’m too beat to leave the buildings for food. Sometimes, Tiffany from third shift will bring me McDonald’s I can eat in the hallway while Sam sleeps. Third, Kevin and Mrs. Martinez come by every other day and stay with Sam for a few hours. That way I get to sleep in an actual bed for an hour or two, pick up clean clothes, and swap out different books for Sam.

We’re both about as good as anyone can be in a hospital.

I guess what worries me is what happens after this.

Guess we’ll see.

-DW

**Author's Note:**

> woo! thank you for submitting asks, y'all! these are fun to answer and i wanted to write something, but wasn't sure what. the ask box is open if you have a question for dean! feel free to submit it. <3
> 
> i hope your holiday was great!


End file.
